Midnight Wine
by CopraMeow
Summary: Red Sun one-shot.VladimirAngeli, deceased Royalty of the Ancients. trigger: menstrual blood play. Why not, eh? Lord Vladimir strolls the corridors of his castle at midnight, don't let him catch you... R&R
1. Chapter 1

Midnight wine

* * *

The moon was rising high above the treetops, claiming the night sky. A silent night like these held secrets in its insides. A bat flew by, soon joined by its brothers and sisters, a flutter of wings amidst the pearly moon.  
A castle stood proudly in the forest. It's high towers perching up, the darkened windows evidence to the sleeping residents inside it.

The night was silent as the young lord sat in his chair. His dark eyes were glassy, partly from the wine and partly from the hunger. Mostly boredom as his estates weren't as fulfilling as they once were. Hunting did nothing to lift his foul mood nor did the company of his family and women. Everything was a dull hum in the noise of his hunger.

He played with the empty glass in his hand. The delicate chalice broke under the pressure of his fingers, shards spilling over the table. He tsked and got up. Strolling through the corridors during the night became first a past time now it was something he had to do. The hunger kept him awake for most nights, restless.

Lazily he crept down the hallway, leaving his mess behind. Some of the maids would clean it sooner or later. He noticed his reflection in one of the windows. The pale skin was taunt, too stretched over his high cheeks. His hair was cut short, his black locks gone after a fight gone bad. It would grow back eventually.

Hall after hall, empty rooms filled with furniture too expensive to count, paintings and flowers. No people and servants. He continued his walk down to the kitchen, there should be a bottle of wine laying somewhere.

Not a sound as he took a bottle from the table, just the moon shining. He took a swing and closed his eyes. The blissful silence sunk in and the splashing of water, rubbing. Opening his eyes he looked around. Sounds of water in this hour of the night? A smirk appeared on his face and he put the bottle down. It came from the cellar, next to the washrooms. Naughty maids using the products of the mistress during the night? The boys washing away evidence of fights from the tavern in the village?

At least it was something exciting and he would take his time examining it. The night was awfully long and silent after all...

The splashing of water became louder as he descended the stairs. He stood in the doorway watching as a young maiden washed sheets. She hummed and scrubbed the cloth with a wide soap. The kind used for crude materials, nothing they used for the sheets of the lords and ladies in the castle. She must have been washing her own bedding. The color coming off it was pale pink. Blood.

Injured? He sniffed and smirked again. The injury that afflicts every woman capable of children every month. The maiden stopped and turned. He watched as her eyes grew wide, the pupil dilating and shadowing the green irises. Her face was round and rosy, golden hair braided around her head, like a peasant's crown.

˝Master!I-I...did I wake you?˝˝- her voice was thick with accent and made him grin wider.

˝No, not really...what are you doing?˝- came the slow question. He watched as she shyly looked towards the sheets and a lovely blush spread over her face.

˝I bleed over the sheets...they will be cleaned shortly...I used the soap for the dishes.˝ - she fumbled with the white soap in her hands avoiding his gaze. He took a step towards her and put a finger under her chin gently raising it.

˝Show me˝- he said in a commanding voice. Her lips parted and she looked confused.

"My lord?"- her eyes scanned the room, probably looking for an exit.

"Show me where you bleed" – he said. Taking off his jacket he sat on the stone basin and waited. The poor maid was trembling. She knew what the punishment for disobeyance was but to show such parts of herself was unheard off? He watched her swallow and lift her eyes to meet his."Is it the lord's will?"

"It's my wish yes.."- A wolfish grin spread over his face. The maid shuddered but her pale hands went to her waist. She fumbled with the small, leather belt and let it fall the ground. Her apron and wide cotton skirt followed. Only thing left was her off-white blouse and linen underskirt. It was wide and he couldn't notice the blood but he smelt it.

She stood waiting, unsure if she should continue or not. He nodded at her to continue. She lowered her eyes to the flood and let her underskirt fall. Her hips rounded to long, pale legs. His gaze fixated to the triangle between her legs, wet by blood. He watched it drip between her legs, stick to the skin. He licked his lips and lifted his eyes to hers. She was blushing like a rose, darkly stained cheeks and shyful eyes staring at him.

A hand lifted motioning to come to him. She walked over slowly. He could smell her, a mixture of blood and something sweeter with a bit of sweat. Absolutely delightful. Rising a hand he caressed her inner thigh. Observed as she shuddered to his touch. With a finger, he spread her legs.

"Lord?"

"Shhh"- with one hand he brought the maid to him positioning her right in front of his face. He swung one of her legs on his shoulder and grinned at the sudden shriek that left her mouth. She balanced on one leg watching him closely, mouth wide as he leaned in, kissing the top of her wet skin, bitting at the flesh of her inner thigh. A muffled sound reached his ears. One finger went to the wet hair stroking it in circles, immediately her hips arched back giving him more access. The finger pulled on the locks bringing her even closer to his mouth where a pink tongue licked. The metallic taste of her blood mixed with her inner sweet spice.

He groaned and pushed his face on her inhaling her scent. A small moan left her. His fingers dove lower circling her entrance and pushing on it slightly. He wanted to feel her wanting him. A small matter of pride, was it and he didn't need to wait long. With new found urgency she pushed against him, lightly rolling her hips. Seems the little maid wasn't new to this...

One finger pushed inside tugging on the soft flesh and a louder moan filled the space between them. Soon another joined, sciscoring her, pushing wider. He watched as his blood covered fingers entered her, smearing blood all over them. Licking his lips he leaned in and took his fingers out. The maid hmpf-ed but remained still waiting for his move. Gently he touched the nib above her swollen bloody mess and tugged at it.

"Ahh Lord!"

"Mmmhmm" – he continued tugging and licking the nib circling his fingers around her entrance. Impatience was something the maid had in abundance as she rolled her hips and moaned louder trying to entice him to continue with his fingers.

With a bloody face he ducked lower pushing his tongue inside, licking and probing. The small washroom filled with the slurping sound of his mouth and the maid's moans, combining in sinful music.

He was lost in the motion and the sounds she was making and before long she was coming to a climax, clutching his shoulders, eyes tightly shut. He let her come lapping at everything she was giving.

Minutes passed and she seemed to regain what the reality of the situation was as she tore herself from his grasp and stood shocked.

"Was it that bad?"- Vladimir asked, lazily wiping his mouth with her sheets. They were crimson once again. He got up and headed for the door. "Next month then..."

* * *

A/n: i . pinimg 564 x / f6 / cc / ba / f6ccbab39221311a5f4d8d247fec34c5 .jpg the young lord;) just remove the spaces


	2. Chapter 2

Midnight Wine

* * *

Chapter 2.

* * *

During the late hours of the night a firefly flew by a meadow. It saw a plain green patch filled with mushrooms of all sizes and colors. Some dim, brown and rather ugly while others sported more vibrant colors, red, oranges even some light yellow caps sprinkled in the grass. The trees leaning above rustled slowly in the wind.

It was a rather calm night, the peasants were asleep and the nobles up the hill were up to their business. The lower folk never associated with them; they often said they were bad news. They had weird habits and strange ideas. Only things they did were pay the taxes and bring the crops.

But there was always that one little rascal that did everything on its own. Sneer at the nobles? Sure. Live in a little hut inside their hunting forest? Yeap. Annoy them with traps and toxic gifts? Absolutely.

On this night Yolanda decided it was time to pick some mushrooms, they were needed for tinctures and to help the villages. Fake meat she called it. Fairy meat. The meat of the poor. She wasn't feared per se, respected from a distance more like it. At times they would come for aid in medicine. Young maidens would offer gifts for a glimpse of their futures; would they marry a rich, handsome prince, or end up with the village boy, crude but benign?

Simple was the life she led and she enjoyed it that way.

She hummed to herself thinking of the nice stew she'd make with the mushrooms, there was some ale too. Using a small knife she carefully cut and placed the mushroom in her basket. She'd only take to feed herself, never more than that. It was a living thing and she cherished it.

Mushroom by mushroom, her basket filled until she bumped her arm against something weird. Lifting her eyes she spotted a man lying down, eyes closed. He was leaning on an oak tree, mouth hanging open. His arms were resting on his belly, legs wide apart. Dark hair cut short. His skin was too pale to be healthy.

Nothing else suggested he was injured, maybe drunk? Lost after strolling through the forest after a feast. He did look like a noble, the clothes he wore were bright in color and thick in material.

She spared him one more look and walked forward. She didn't care about his drunken state, no harm he could do now. Worst would be the curses in the morning following a headache and stomach pains.

He'd survive.

* * *

Inside her cottage everything was lit by the orange glow of the hearth. Herbs dried in the corner above the window, shelves were littered with books and bottles with herbs and powders. The small kitchen was just a table with two cupboards and a basin. Directly opposite was a big bed, lined with furs and pillows and next to it a wooden wardrobe, the doors etched with scenes from the forest. Deer playing through the grass, birds flying over the tree tops, a stream cutting the tree line. Yolanda smiled fondly at the memories of the wardrobe.

She turned to her wooden table, her mind searching over recipes for her to make. Something easy and fast, she wasn't in a huge cooking mood. A turn in the hip while she grabbed a pot and suddenly she stilled.

On her window was a head, more precisely a head with a skull mask. A pair of eyes glued to her. Through the hollowness of the bones she couldn't recognize the color, just the paleness. Yolanda approached her window and motioned him to move. "Shoo" – it could have been a villager harassing her. "Damn witch" they called her. "The nobles will have ya ass lass, watch it" and other nonsense.

Of course, when medicine was needed or a baby had trouble coming into this world then she was called upon. When they would starve because of the drought they would weep behind her door.

But if the sun shone that day? She was a damned witch.

And the witch had a temper too.

˝Will you move already? I'm hungry˝- She spat at the masked head. It continued to watch her. Ready to hurl wood at him she turned to her hearth to grab some logs. With a hefty piece of wood in both hands she turned back to her window and saw the forest. No skull head, no pale eyes.

A mirage of her hunger? A spirit passing?

Or her imagination running wild?

Yet she could have sworn to see a neck attached to the head, black hair sticking to the skin.


End file.
